


From the East

by caffeinatednightowl



Series: Daughter of Dusk [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Xaela (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Xaela Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Backstory, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Road Trips, The Hero's Journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27908905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatednightowl/pseuds/caffeinatednightowl
Summary: Leaving the Steppe for good, Mara still has a journey before she can make it Eorzea.
Series: Daughter of Dusk [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024647
Kudos: 5





	From the East

**Author's Note:**

> Like [The Weathered Grimoire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687034/chapters/6775629), this was written for RP!Mara. Though it fits into the story line.

The great, rolling plains of the Steppe soon gave way to the peaks and valleys of Yanxia as Mara crossed over into Doma. She had heard from the traders in Reunion of the land; beautiful, lush, green, filled with forests of bamboo and great flowing rivers. But she was struck by the beauty of the hills, the towering spires of rock, great Doma Castle dominating the landscape. As she traveled the hills on her black horse, called “Dusk” in Xaellic, she felt as if her eyes were truly opened for the first time; seeing the world as she had never seen it, living in the Steppe.

She had enough food in her pack, and stopped for water at the cool streams every now and again, but as day rolled into night rolled into day, she never made for one of the small villages she spotted on the crossing. For now, it just felt right, being alone. Curling up in the shade of one of the squat trees to sleep under the stars as Nhaama watched over her, Mara felt content. With the stars to guide her way, she took a leisurely pace crossing the land, making her way toward the Ruby Sea, toward Hingashi—toward Eorzea.

But she didn’t avoid people entirely. As she took a lonely dirt road, shaded in the outcrop of a hill, a boy, perhaps of twelve, thirteen years, stepped out from the shade of the bamboo, staring. He looked young; a Hyur, Doman, and stared at her with an intense curiosity. For the Xaela hardly ever left the Steppe; how many of her people had he seen? “Are you…are you from the tribes?” He asked in Doman, hesitant, his dark eyes wide in wonder. “From the Steppe of Azim?”

“I am,” Mara replied back in Doman, stepping down from Dusk; she didn’t want to appear a mysterious figure. “I was,” she said, in an afterthought.

“Where are you going?”

“To Hingashi. I want—I want to go to Eorzea.”

“That is the continent across the sea, isn’t it?” He asked, perking up. “They say it is a wild, ravaged place; with aether crystals growing to towering heights, right out of the ground!”

Mara nodded. She had heard of the aftermath of the Calamity from five years ago. But, every piece of news she had heard since indicated that the Eorzeans were a hardy people; they were rebuilding, and would continue to rebuild. “I heard the tales, too. Many beast tribes, who come together to summon great beasts and hideous monsters, dragons ravaging the land, fighting a war against mankind for a thousand years…It sounds savage and treacherous, with ancient, dangerous magicks just waiting to be discovered.” Her eyes were probably sparkling at the thought. “I can’t wait.”

The boy laughed; maybe he didn’t think she was serious. Still, she walked up to him, smiling. She didn’t mind children, the younger Kahkols had always been a pleasant sort. And it was nice to talk to someone along the way.

The boy turned back from the road, indicating a place up the hill. “My village is just that way. You should come! A Xaela in Yanxia! No one has seen the like in so long!”

Ah, so she was an _amusement_. Still, she accepted the offer, leading Dusk up the hill. The village was small, filled with ramshackle huts centered around a small square. As she walked into the village, the people did stare at her, as she expected. The boy led her excitedly up the hill to the largest of the huts, running up to the tall man in front of them, who was currently sitting on the porch, mending a rope. Her escort jumped up excitedly and pointed to her. The man rose from his seat, looking at her with a smile that met the wrinkles on the side of his face. “I see my Shinta was right; we don’t see many Xaela around here.” He said, kindly. “Welcome to Namai.”

Mara smiled back, patting her horse as she looked around Namai. The village was indeed small, quaint, but the people seemed to live in relative peace. “Thank you for welcoming me.”

She glanced around the village, from the children playing, to the men walking up to work in the rice paddies, pants hiked up over their ankles. Women laughed and carried baskets of harvest towards the little marketplace. Though Mara had enjoyed the journey alone, it was a welcome respite from the long ride. “I am afraid I cannot stay long, I must make for Hingashi soon. Can you tell me the way?”

The man thought a moment. “You are but a day away from the Ruby Sea from here. You will have to cross the Ruby Sea to get to Kugane, but it is guarded by the Confederacy. You’ll have to pay the Ruby Tithe to get across.”

Mara blinked. “Ruby…Tithe? I expected a toll, but…”

The man seemed to shake his head, a small smile on his face as if laughing internally at her naivety. “Oh yes, the Ruby Tithe. The Confederacy, they are pirates in all but name. They demand everyone give them payment, for they control the waters. And the payment isn’t cheap in the least. Many have sold everything they have just to get across.”

Mara glanced away, thinking a moment. She had some money, Hingan coins packed away in her sack for tickets and tolls, but she hadn’t expected this. “Is there no other way?”

“Unless you feel like swimming across, I’m afraid not.”

Mara folded her arms glumly. She was almost certain she wouldn’t have enough money if this Confederacy—these _pirates_ —demanded such a high price. How would she get across to Kugane now?

“Here, no need to think on it now,” the man said. “Why not stay here awhile? Namai does not get many visitors. You can put your horse up for a bit and rest.”

Despite the new complication, at least this was welcome. “Thank you, I will.” She said, smiling as she led Dusk to a stable. The Kahkol were not the Goro, but Mara felt much affection for the animal that would be her companion on this journey, if only for a little while. As she took off Dusk’s saddle and set aside the saddlebags, brushing out Dusk’s long, dark mane, she thought about it. _I cannot take Dusk with me across the Ruby Sea_. Mara sighed, leaning her head against Dusk’s strong neck, taking in the scent of her. _I may yet barely have enough for the toll, but not for myself and a horse. She will have to stay here in Othard._

She could not easily send Dusk back to the Steppe, not so far away already. But, perhaps it was a good thing she had been led to this little village. The Domans seemed a pleasant, caring people. _Maybe they will look after you_ , thought Mara, giving Dusk one last pat and then walking back to the village.

While Namai was small, they did have a few markets. With her bag slung on her back, Mara looked at their wares—rice, fish from the rivers, cloth, sturdy leather, all things you would find in a small village market. Perhaps she had been spoiled over the years, getting used to the diverse trading hub that was Reunion.

While she walked, she felt a tug on her deep purple (the colors of Kahkol) woolen robe. A gaggle of children looked down at her, wide-eyed. “I heard,” one of them said, as if he was afraid to ask. “Every year, the warring tribes have a great battle! And the winner leads the Xaela until the next one?”

Mara smiled at the children. “The Naadam, yes. The champion of the Naadam rules as khagan of all Xaela. The Oronir are the current rulers.”

“Is it a bloody battle? How many die?”

“Uh, well,” Mara faltered, trying to find the words in Doman. “The Naadam is…I suppose it is a bloody battle. But my tribe, the Kahkol, we never participate in the Naadam. We are not contenders to lead the Steppe.”

“Are there really great monsters on the Steppe?” Another little boy piped up, looking almost ecstatic at the prospect of danger.

“Gulo and other things, but I never—”

“They say that Xaela are great, bloodthirsty warriors!” Another little boy pushed to the front, eyes wide in wonder. “Are you a great warrior?”

The breath caught in Mara’s throat. _No, no I am not…and that is why I left._ Taking a moment, she forced a smile. “I hope to be.”

“All right, children, leave her be!” A woman behind a stall of fruit shooed them away. “Sorry for that, I don’t think they’ve ever seen one of your people before.”

“It’s all right,” said Mara, smiling as the children ran off. One of them grabbed two sticks, stuck them on the sides of his head like Xaela horns, chasing the other one as they all howled with laughter. Glancing down at the stall, Mara looked down at the orange fruit in front of her. She had seen a few in Reunion, but had never had the chance… “Is that a persimmon?”

“Indeed,” the woman laughed. “Here, you may try a sample,” she handed Mara a persimmon (a small one, though.)

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly…”

“Don’t worry about it,” the woman said. “You are here because you are traveling, yes? The road will only get harder from here. Besides,” she turned back to smile at the children, now play fighting with sticks. “You brought them a little joy. And we rarely have much joy now. Not with Garlemald—”

Before she could finish, a bell rang out, high above. _Clang! Clang! Clang!_ Mara looked up the hill towards the tower overlooking Namai. It sounded like the bell was a warning?

The mood immediately shifted. The smile on the woman’s face faded. “Oh, you had better—go hide yourself.”

“What?” Mara stammered, holding the gifted persimmon in two hands. “Why?”

“The Garleans!” She said, “I know you are not a citizen of Doma, but if they see you they might—”

The Domans quickly settled into a flurry, women coming to take their children inside their homes. The children dropped their sticks at once and followed, laughter all forgotten. Men gathered in the center of the square, not holding any weapons, but keeping an eye on where they were, just in case. Mara looked left and right at the rush. Not sure where to go. Where to hide? And why? What would the Garleans want with—

“Miss!” A voice called to her with a wave. It was the boy that had brought her there, Shinta, he was gesturing back to the stables where she had taken Dusk. “Over here!”

Mara didn’t think twice as she quickly followed into the stables. “Up in the loft, hurry!” Shinta said, pushing up into the hayloft. There she lay, and he came down beside her, as they watched through a crack in the wood. “Here they come,” said Shinta, his breathing slowed, a twinge fearful.

Where there had been laughter, conversations, now, the village was blanketed in silence.

Shinta’s father, possibly the village headman, walked forward as three men in heavy black armor approached the village square. _So those are the Garleans._ Mara had heard of them, had heard of how they ruled Doma with an iron fist, but she had never seen, never truly understood—All knew the Xaela to be a proud, warlike people, and the Garleans had never dared set foot in the Steppe. Though Mara was very obviously of the Steppe, if the Garleans saw her, here in Doma, what would they do?

She didn’t want to find out.

“We have need of more rice than your current shipments,” the Garlean said, his voice muffled by the metal helmet. “It is not enough to meet our needs. You must send more, _immediately_. The viceroy will not take kindly to a delay.”

“Forgive me, but we thought we were sending more than enough to Castrum Fulminis,” the headman said, his voice on a knife’s edge; careful. “We must be allowed some of our own crop for ourselves.”

“Are you _arguing_ with me?” The Garlean said, stepping forward, hand on the gunblade at his hip. “Need I not remind you the last time your little village disobeyed a direct order? Certainly you would like to keep some of our men here at home instead of conscripted, would you not?” He drew it out, thick with spite. “I hear you have a son now. He is of age to be drafted, or close to it…I would _hate_ to take your son away from you, but if I must—”

The headman’s right hand clenched into a fist, punctuated by a long silence. For a moment, the air was thick with the tension; Mara wondered if he might abandon all reason and strike the man.

But he did not. “Give us one day,” He said in a small voice; broken. “We will need one day to get a shipment together…but you shall have your grain.”

“ _Hmph._ See that you do. I will be back.” The Garlean turned on his heel, marching away, with the soft clang of his armor in his wake. Though they left, the tension did not ease; people stayed inside, unable to believe it was over so quickly.

Mara pursed her lips, watching from her vantage point in the hayloft as the headman turned away, scratching the back of his neck, giving orders to the other men. With their food being stolen, men being conscripted, it seemed like the village was on a pulled back bowstring, ready to snap. Something soon, anything, could release it all.

The weathered grimoire felt heavy on her hip. _How much more can these people take?_

_~~~~~_

Despite the day’s events, eventually the people fell back into an easy rhythm. The village headman invited Mara to dine at his house, and she nervously accepted. He asked her questions of the Steppe, and she answered readily, occasionally pausing a moment to find the right words in Doman.

“You must stay the night,” the headman said, smiling. “You shouldn’t have to go traveling alone after dark.

“I’ve—I’m afraid I already accepted too much of your hospitality—”

“Nonsense, we should be thanking you,” the man laughed, patting his son on the shoulder. “Your arrival has given the children something to talk about; I’ve seen more laughter today than I’ve seen in years.”

Mara couldn’t imagine such a fuss being made over _her._ “Are…are you sure everything will be all right? The Garleans—”

“Don’t trouble yourself too much about it; the Garleans won’t like come back until another day to ask after their precious shipment. You can stay here, and tomorrow you should be able to reach the Ruby Sea.”

Mara set down her little bowl of rice, thinking. “There is something else…something I would ask you about.” She sighed; this would not be easy. “I…I cannot take Dusk with me, this I know. I was wondering if…If you have need of a horse, I would—if you would take her, I would know she is well looked after. She is a strong, Steppe-bred horse and—”

The man smiled back, “I’ll do you one better. We always have a need for good horses, and I know the Steppe has good stock. I’ll pay you for her, it may not be what she’s entirely worth but, hopefully, it will be enough to get you over the Ruby Sea.

Mara felt a little warmth in her chest. “Oh, thank you, Sir. I know…I know I leave her in good hands.”

That night, before going to bed, Mara took one last trip to the stables, to give Dusk a farewell pat. “They will be a good family,” she said in Xaellic, soothing the mare. “I know they will take care of you. Maybe the boy will learn to ride on you; how does that sound? Be a good girl and maybe, maybe one day, I will see you again.”

That was perhaps a fruitless thought, but as she nuzzled the mare’s neck, it gave Mara comfort. Yes, Dusk would be well looked after, and if she never saw her again, well, Nhaama bless, she would be loved and cared for the rest of her life.

_~~~~~_

Mara gasped as the rolling hills gave way to that expanse of water—wider and larger than she ever dared dream. She had thought that the One River was large but this; not even the entire Steppe was as large as the sea that stretched out before her!

It had been a long walk from Namai, but she had been joined on the journey for a while by a merchant heading North. The air was thick with that strong, marine scent; the taste of salt in her mouth. Across the sea, Mara could see a towering island, smoking and red hot as magma oozed down the sides. Small other islands dotted the landscape all of them looking like tiny smudges on the horizon. Looking towards the north, she gasped as she spotted a tower, impossibly high and pointing up to the sky like a defiant finger.

Walking along the beach, Mara occasionally stopped at the water’s edge, sinking down on her knees to dip her hands in in wonder. The water was cool, calm, the waves lazily lapping at the shore.

There was a small Doman fishing village along the shore and Mara walked between the fishermen gathering up their days catch or mending their nets. Some gave her stares like she saw in Namai, but most gave her a glance and moved on; the Ruby Sea was a trading route, so they might have seen some Xaela, or at least Au Ra, before.

After a few directions, the clink of a coin, Mara had a ferry over to Crick, the base of the Confederacy’s operations. There, she would get her ferry across to Kugane and then—on to Eorzea.

But it was not as easy as her plan seemed.

“You want to go to Kugane with _that?_ ” One of the Confederates spat, a Hyuran man with dark hair set in a braid, a staff heavy on his back. “This isn’t enough to get you to Sakazuki, much less Kugane.”

“Please!” Mara begged in Hingan, holding out the coins. “It’s all I have! I must—I _need_ to get to Kugane.”

“And I need me a drink that ain’t watered down, but we all got problems.” He turned on his heel, heading back up the wooden scaffolding. “I suggest you use that money to go back to where you came from, Miss. The Confederacy doesn’t do charity.”

This—this could not— _No!_ She could not let it end this way! Not after she had come so far! Not after she had already given Dusk, her only companion away. Running up, Mara stood in front of him, holding out the coins once more. “ _Please!_ I cannot turn around here! I don’t—I don’t have any home left to go to. All I have now is to move forward. To Kugane—to Eorzea. I will,” she gulped, glancing down at her pack, where all her worldly possessions lay. “I will give you _everything I have_ to keep going. I _must._ ”

The man stopped, raising an eyebrow. “And what do you have in there, skins and wool from the Steppe, aye? None o’ that is what we need—”

“And what _do_ you need?” Mara demanded, violet eyes intense. “I’ll give you anything—”

“Anything, you say?” His expression softened, but there was something in his eyes that made nervousness churn in Mara’s gut. “How much do you want to go to Kugane?”

Mara gulped, pulling back her hand with the coins. “As I said, I’ll do anything. I cannot stop now.”

“Hmm,” he stepped closer to her, another step, and another, and Mara felt herself walking backwards, towards the railing of the scaffold. His eyes roamed her body, making her breath stop short; she didn’t like the way he was looking at her, like she was a piece of meat in a market. “If you cannot pay the toll with your coin, then perhaps…perhaps you could pay with your body?”

Mara let out a frightened gasp, near trembling at that. So, that was it. That was the price. The man in Namai had said the price would be high, but this—but _this—!_

Her instincts told her to run, to get away from here and go back to the Steppe. This was what she was risking, going so far from the comfortability of home. She had no money, no connections, when people asked things of her, all she had to give was—!

Even so, even if that was the cost…

She could not give up. She could _never_ give up.

Mara shook as she lowered her head, her hands balling into fists. She felt small tears in the corners of her eyes. No, she would _not_ cry. “If…if that is the price then…then I will pay it.”

“Wait, wait?” The man sounded startled, confused. “You mean, you would actually…?”

Mara’s head shot up, fire in her violet eyes. “I said I would, didn’t I?” she snapped. “Don’t make me say it again!”

The Hyruan man stepped back, a light pinkness to his cheeks, looking almost _embarrassed._ “I didn’t think you would agree to it…” With a nervous scratch on his neck, he looked down at his feet. “Rasho’s not going to like this, but…” He sighed, before nodding with this head towards the boat dock. “Go on, get.”

Mara blinked. “What?”

“I said go on, you’ve paid your price,” He said roughly, reaching out and taking the coins from her hand.

“But—I thought—”

“Hurry up before I change my mind!” He snapped, and Mara didn’t question him again. Grabbing her pack, she scrambled down to the dock, adrenaline running through her veins and heart pounding in her chest.

As she waited for the ferry to take her across, she saw the man again, talking with a larger, stouter man on the beach. Her horns were more sensitive than Hyruan ears, so she picked up a bit of the conversation.

“These few coins are _hardly_ worth a crossing, Tansui, I hope you don’t start feeling sorry for all of ‘em.”

“It wasn’t that, Rasho,” the man called Tansui said, shaking his head. “I didn’t think she had it in her to say yes. If she had said ‘no,’ I would’ve turned her away. I wanted to see how much she really wanted it.”

“You should’ve known better than to ask that,” Rasho snapped. “It’s not our way. And if word of _this_ gets out, every lass out of Doma will come trying to buy their freedom—”

“She reminded me a bit of my little sister...last time I saw her, all those years ago,” Tansui admitted quietly, glancing out across the Ruby Sea. “Besides, the girl’s got a fire in her. I think she’s going places. It’s not for us to block her way, aye?”

Rasho grumbled as he walked away, but Mara couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation as the ferry began to board. To Kugane then…and after…

_~~~~~_

Kugane was _breathtaking._

Mara had thought the Ruby Sea amazing but Kugane—it was like she didn’t have enough eyes to take it in. People were everywhere, more people than Mara had ever seen. Women wore fine silk kimonos, men at their sides carrying samurai swords; she saw Hyurs and Miqo’te and Elezen, even Au Ra. Walking around the city, Mara felt she could get lost and never return in all Kugane’s winding alleyways and wooden bridges. She kept close to the waterfront and markets, trying not to bump into the finely-dressed couples carrying umbrellas, feeling self-conscious next to such beautiful silks in her travel stained, woolen Kahkol robes. 

With so many ships in port, Mara thought she would be searching everywhere or a ship to take her to Eorzea, but as luck would have it, she found one soon enough.

“We sail tomorrow for Eorzea, aye,” the quartermaster said in a dialect that she had to constantly pay attention to understand. “If you can pay ahead of time, we’ll take you along. The price for a cabin is—”

“I—I do not think I shall be affording cabin,” Mara said in Eorzean, gripping her bag tighter. The Confederacy had taken all of her currency; she’d have to sell whatever else she had left and hope it was enough. “Just…just for a crossing.”

The quartermaster raised an eyebrow. “You’d sleep on a hammock with the sailors?”

“I would sleep in heap on deck if that is what I must.”

That…did not impress him as she thought. “Well, if you insist…I suppose we can take you across for this much, but no less than that.”

That left Mara a whole day to try and find the money to pay for the passage. Walking up and down the markets, she searched for a reputable pawn shop that might take whatever she had left, leaving her with at least enough to pay for the passage across; she hoped she wouldn’t find someone asking her to “pay with her body” again.

She found a small shop in an alleyway, with an old woman who seemed at least like she didn’t want to cheat her; while other men called out from their shops, trying to get her inside to see their wares, Mara _had_ spent much of her time trading in Reunion. She knew a bad deal when she saw one. “This is…this is all I have,” Mara spoke in heavily accented Hingan, spreading out the fine fleece blankets, her traditional Steppe robes, her old Hingan books. The only thing she kept from the pack was the weathered grimoire at her waist—the only clue she had to lead her on to her destiny.

“Hmm,” the old woman chewed her tongue, looking at the wares. “You’ve got some fine Steppe goods, but not to the sum that you’re suggesting.”

Mara felt her throat tighten. _Not again!_ “But this is—this is all I have left! I don’t have anything else but what I’m wearing! Please, you must—”

“There’s just not enough demand for Steppe goods right now, I’m sorry.” She shook hear head. “Still, I can give you this…” She opened her purse, pulled out some Hingan coins.

But it wasn’t enough. After everything, it wasn’t enough.

Mara closed her eyes, sighing. What now? Sell her shoes? Walk around in her undergarments? Truly sell her body as has been suggested? She didn’t have enough money to pay the toll back over the Ruby Sea. There must be something else she could sell! Something—

She cupped her mother’s jade necklace in her hands, as she had always done when nervous, her thumb running over the intricate carving. But as the thought came to her, she stopped, eyes opening wide.

No. No, she couldn’t…it was her mother’s necklace…all she had left of her now that she was gone…She had never even taken it off, much less…

_This is all I have left of her, I can’t—_

_…But this is…this is all I have left, isn’t it?_

She could not turn back. Could not hesitate. She had to continue forward now, now that she had come so far.

From the moment she had left the Steppe, she lost the option to look back. There was only one way ahead.

Mara shut her eyes tight for a moment, her hand closing over the jade pendant, as if to sear the feeling, the coolness of it into her mind. And then, slowly, holding back the urge to stop herself, she unclasped the pendant and handed it over. “How about this?”

The old woman adjusted her glasses, looking at it. “Why, this is fine Othardian jade! And such an intricate carving! Yes, yes, certainly that will get you the amount you need, and perhaps more—“

Mara’s eyes lingered on the necklace, clenching her teeth as it disappeared from her sight, perhaps forever. Gulping down the lump in her throat, she asked, “How much more?”

_~~~~~_

When Mara walked up to the quartermaster again, she was carrying a purse clinking with Hingan coins. She tossed the purse onto the box in front of him, the purse jangling as it hit. The man stiffened up in surprise, looking down at the amount with wide eyes. “I would like to be taken to cabin of mine now,” said Mara, coolly. “And if cook of yours would be kind, some dinner also.”

The man counted the coins she had tossed him in awe. “Well, yes…I—certainly, right this way!”

And so, she stepped over the gangplank to the ship, looking across the sea, to the setting sun on the horizon.

_And now, at last, despite everything it cost…to Eorzea…_

**Author's Note:**

> Join our [bookclub](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) for more fic and general debauchery.


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